


First Haircut

by R2sMuse



Series: Knight's Bloom Series [2]
Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: AU, F/M, Family Drama, Kids
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-25
Updated: 2012-04-25
Packaged: 2017-11-04 07:29:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/391318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/R2sMuse/pseuds/R2sMuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short, hair-inspired drabble about the first haircut for Marian Hawke and Cullen's son and the memories it evokes for Cullen. Set after "Knight's Bloom," although it's not really necessary to have read both.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Haircut

"But, why?" the two-year old asked again, shifting in his chair and drumming his foot impatiently against the chair leg.

Marian Hawke smiled indulgently at her son and repeated, "Because without a haircut you can't see." She reseated the sheet around his shoulders and leaned in to continue trimming his unruly curls. "And, Malcolm, if you can stay very, very still, then it won't take long at all."

At that moment, however, Cullen walked in, causing yet another distraction. "Papa!" the little boy cried, turning his head. Marian gave Cullen an exasperated look and then placed her hands on either side of the boy's face and turned his head back into position again.

Cullen shrugged and gave his wife a mischievous grin, adding, "You're doing a splendid job, Malcolm. Not much longer now." Malcolm's resemblance to his father was almost uncanny, including a head of tightly curled golden hair that seemed to turn red in certain lighting.

Marian shook her head in amused resignation and then moved around to face her son, preparing to cut the front of his hair. "So, Malcolm, should we cut your hair short just like Papa's or leave it long?" She looked up just in time to see Cullen grimace. "What?" she asked him.

Cullen's face clouded. "I… I think we should leave it… free."

Marian stepped back and said to Malcolm, "Okay, short break, sparrowhawk. Stay sitting, but you can move your head, okay?" He nodded back at her, a bit too emphatically as he immediately exercised the right the move his head as much as he wanted.

She set down the shears and walked over to her husband with a faint look of concern. She reached out and ran her fingers through his closely shorn locks, loving the feel of his hair against her fingertips. His hair was so tightly curled one might expect it to feel wiry, so she was always amazed at how soft it was. In fact, his hair was perhaps her favorite of his features, something he knew well. She moved her hand back to cup his cheek. "What is it, love?" she asked in a soft voice.

He took her hand from against his cheek and placed a slow kiss in the center of her palm. "It's nothing, really…" He saw that she wasn't taking this for an answer when the look in her eye became stern, so he searched for an explanation. "It's just… keeping my hair short… it's a habit from my templar days." She nodded, already knowing this, but waited for him to continue. "I say habit… but really it was a requirement." He paused again, looking away. "I guess I've always… sort of envied Malcolm a bit for being able to be so… free with his hair. I try to imagine that perhaps that's what I looked like, once upon a time. Back when I was just a grimy-kneed altar boy. Before I had such… structure in my life."

She searched his eyes for a moment and then gave him a quick kiss on the lips, trying to show him that she understood. His childhood as a Chantry orphan always evoked a mix of emotions for him, some good and some bad. He held her fast against him and soon the kiss had deepened. Marian pulled herself away reluctantly, touching a hand to her flushed cheek before glancing behind her at Malcolm. But he was facing the other direction, oblivious to his parents, and was practicing making wet raspberry sounds with his lips.

She walked back over to the boy and, with a smile at her husband, announced, "Okay, free it is."

Malcolm's head perked up at once. "Free? Yes!" Then, faster than they would have thought possible, the child had whipped off the sheet and was sprinting out the door. Marian and Cullen shared a rueful laugh.

Cullen enfolded her in his arms, his lips twisting in chagrin. "Perhaps a poor choice of words," he said with a chuckle.

She smiled up at him fondly and shook her head. "No. I think it was the perfect choice of words."


End file.
